Lake’s Dance Party

I’m going to leave this post more obtuse and enigmatic than usual. I do this because even the people for whom it’s going to be clear what I’m talking about will likely get a solid laugh out of it at my expense. (And yes, my writing can be made MORE obtuse and enigmatic.)

Here’s the story: Earlier this week, I heard a song as part of a much larger media file. Actually, it was the soundtrack supporting spoken dialogue. It was glorious.

I looked into the matter, and managed to discover what the song was called and how to get it. I did so. But the soundtrack version was a much more somber rendition. Still beautiful, but not what I was looking for.

So I fired up the file again and made a sound recording of the section of interest. It’s two minutes and forty-six seconds long. The music itself has no words. However, the file in question features dialogue for those 2:46s. Even the dialogue makes me happy. This is the dialogue in question:

“I know this place.”
“Of course you do. Go inside.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Life has a melody, Gaius. A rhythm of notes that become your existence once played in harmony with God’s plan. It’s time to do your part and realize your destiny.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“You are the guardian and protector of the new generation of God’s children. The first member of our family will be with us soon, Gaius. It’s time to make your choice.”
“But I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Really, I don’t understand—”
“Come... see the face of the shape of things to come. Isn’t she beautiful, Gaius?”

I have since listened to this exchange on loop more or less ever since. Including on several trips to and from Chicago. Doing some math on the relative length of that commute and the length of the file, I’d estimate I have listened to it now about 400 times. But it’s worse when I’m just walking around with my headphones on, because it makes me really smiley and makes me want to dance. I let the smiling happen, and don’t fight the dancing too hard either.

Yesterday at the grocery store, the checkout girl asked me what I was listening to as a result of this. I told her. I think she’s probably still confused, because I replied (arguably correctly) in Italian.

The people who have a clue what I’m talking about have probably wet their pants laughing at me by now. I think that’s enough.